


The Movie He Didn't Pay For

by whatthepratt



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, movie date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-18 22:31:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7333276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthepratt/pseuds/whatthepratt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Tony is invited to the movie he has been anticipating for months on end, he is too captivated by the god sitting to his right to pay any attention. And now Steve expects his full analysis and opinion on the film. Yikes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Movie He Didn't Pay For

Steve was remarkably good at this.

Well, of course Steve was good at this; Tony hadn’t expected anything less than flawless from the literal genetically-engineered perfect male physique. But, in the exact moment Steve’s hand touched down on his shoulder, every other thought flew out of Tony’s head and he went into a state of mental panic.

Was he supposed to scoot closer so Steve didn’t have to strain to remain in that position? Was he supposed to look at Steve? Kiss him on the cheek? And what the hell was he supposed to do with his hands? He couldn’t reach up and touch Steve’s hand, no, that’d be weird. He couldn’t put his hand on Steve’s thigh, no, that’d be even weirder. If he left his hands in his lap it would seem like he had ignored Steve’s welcoming gesture, and that’d make Steve second-guess himself, and then Tony would completely miss the opportunity he had been anticipating for months on end. And oh, God, his shoulder was probably bony, and his shirt was probably stiff and sticking up at an awkward angle that was poking at Steve’s hand, and his hands were probably sweaty and warm and shaking uncontrollably… 

This was definitely not how his defining moment as a romantically-capable boyfriend was supposed to go down.

Out of the corner of his eye, through whatever mess of doubts bouncing around the rims of his skull, Tony, through the black of the theatre, saw Steve’s calm expression break as it began to crumble into one of regret. Tony panicked, again, so in attempt to salvage what was left of the moment, as well as his ass from a deal of scolding Nat would distribute the following morning, he scooted off of his seat cushion and towards Steve, who’s hand was beginning to lift shakily off of his shoulder.

No, the move wasn’t graceful. It was more of a violent shove than a scoot, and he was pretty sure he elbowed Steve sharply in the ribs somewhere in the process, but once the popcorn within the tub had settled, he had made his point. Steve had rested his hand back on Tony’s shoulder-- but only after failing to suppress a chuckle, of course-- and had settled back into his chair to continue watching the film as Tony breathed a sigh of relief.

Tony found himself glancing up at Steve several times afterwards, especially when the screen glowed suddenly and Steve’s face lit up with the white light of a development, and though Steve never turned to look back at him, once or twice, he was pretty sure Steve had noticed him staring. The way his lips curled up in a knowing smirk, and the way his brows lifted ever so slightly, even in an effort to keep them still, was by far the most beautiful and embarrassing three seconds Tony had ever had the privilege to experience.

How exactly he had gotten himself into the situation was still unclear; The team had been sitting on the couch, enjoying a variety of Thai food Clint had brought after his weekly trip to a target-filled forest behind the supermarket parking lot. Steve was on the sofa with his feet up on the table, Natasha was sitting criss-cross in the corner, and Tony was on the floor in front of the TV with a bowl of curry and a soup spoon, when a commercial for an action movie appeared on the screen.

It was one of those natural disaster movies Tony went nuts for, the kind where the family gets separated from their child and the child makes a friend or two that helps them narrowly escape the seemingly-inevitable death sentence that everyone knew was false from the very beginning. They were far-fetched, but somehow seemed legitimately possible, if you altered physics a little, and to Tony, they were intriguing, and he went out of his way to make sure that, in some reality, everything that happened in the movie was feasible, no matter how many interdimensional twists he had to put forth. So, in his excitement, Tony had mumbled through a mouthful of curry, “Oh, yes, now _there's_ a challenge.”

And, of course, Steve, being the caring and generous person he was and knowing exactly what Tony had meant, spoke up with his offer. “I’ll take you this Friday, if you’d like.”

Tony had agreed in an instant. And looking back, he realized he probably should’ve provided Steve with at least the option of having Tony cover the ticket cost, or the popcorn cost, because it was a little known fact that Steve could barely afford to pay his end of the rent, let alone spend an extra $30 on a man who was rich beyond his wildest dreams. He had been selfish, and too caught up in his own exhilaration to notice he had been so.

But, Steve had paid without hesitation. He had carried the popcorn into the theatre, he had given the collector the tickets with one hand; hell, he had even held the front door open for Tony to pass through, and shielded him from the rain in the process. Steve was damn good at being nice to people, even when his actions went completely unnoticed.

And now, Tony, the now-luckiest man in the world, was sitting to the left of the god who had; one, offered to take him to a movie of his favorite genre; two, paid for the entire night; and three, done so without complaint or seeking anything in return.

Man, Tony sure as hell didn’t deserve this guy.

A high-pitched scream emanated from the speakers, dragging Tony’s focus back to the movie. Then Steve, with wide eyes never leaving the screen, groped for the popcorn that rested in Tony’s lap. His hand hovered above the water bottle, over Tony’s knee, and at one point, almost bumped into Tony’s chin, but Tony chuckled and lifted a guiding hand, leading Steve’s arm into the tub. Steve took a small handful and popped the bits into his mouth as Tony grabbed a fistful himself. Distracted by Steve’s godly presence as a whole, Tony swung his hand towards his mouth, and the popcorn exploded on impact, shooting out from between his fingers, startling the pitcher, and sending the rest raining down on not only Tony’s chest and legs, but into Steve’s lap as well.

Steve burst out laughing, but immediately clapped his hand over his mouth when violent shushes came from those sitting around them. Tony suppressed a giggle as Steve removed his arm from around his shoulders and began picking flecks of popcorn off of his own pants and tossing them back in the nearly-empty bucket. Tony lifted the tub out of his lap and balanced it on his leg, tossing pieces from his legs in with Steve’s.

Brushing the flecks off of his chest and still blushing uncontrollably, Tony whispered, “Ugh, now I’m all oily.”

Steve chuckled and shook his head, taking the tub off of Tony’s knee and setting it on an empty seat beside him. Tony dusted his hands together and shifted towards Steve, crunching a piece of popcorn under the seat of his pants. Grunting at the unpleasantry, he lifted his right thigh to glance at what remained of the kernel. Steve’s seat creaked as he bent over to see for himself, and as Steve’s lips brushed the crown of Tony’s head, Tony’s cheeks grew redder than he ever thought possible.

The sudden affection caught Tony by surprise, and sent a shiver dancing down his spine, tingling his toes and rapidly increasing his heart rate. But it was probably an accident. It probably didn't mean anything, right? It was just an accident… An accident. Right? Right. God, this whole making-sure-you-don’t-screw-up-the-possibility-of-a-relationship-with-the-guy-of-your-dreams was way more stressful than he remembered. Why did he even get into this, again?

Tony dusted the piece away and settled down into his chair, crossing his buttery hands in his lap and still fighting the blush that persistently warmed his cheeks. He glanced over at Steve, who was staring at him with a dopey smirk. After a slight tilt of his head, Steve offered him his hand. Tony frowned, not taking the hint, and pointed to the bottled water next to him. Tony cocked his head, and mouthed, “Water?”

Steve rolled his eyes and grabbed Tony’s outstretched hand, tugging him closer to his body as Tony’s other arm flailed wildly behind him. Tony slammed, once again, into Steve’s shoulder, but Steve didn’t seem to mind. Tony’s mouth nearly dropped open as Steve crossed his other hand atop his and Tony’s, hooked his arm under Tony’s elbow, and turned to watch the movie again.

Oh, yeah. That’s why.

Tony’s face was burning red, his heart nearly thumping out of his chest. And now his hand was buttery, _and_ sweaty. Great! Great, great. Great. He was _sure_ Steve was enjoying that concoction brewing within his fist. Tony used his free hand to tousle his hair, and rubbed his freshly-shaven goatee, trying to distract himself from the ache in his chest. But it was no use; the smile that peeled his cheeks back and warmed his heart kept finding its way back.

Tony tried to focus on the movie, but his eyes kept flicking away from the screen back to Steve’s tensed figure. Steve’s grip on Tony’s sweaty hand was tight, almost choking the life out of it, but somehow comforting. His breathing was shallow as he watched the film intently. His blue eyes were wide, and his soft pink lips were parted ever so slightly as his chest rose and fell with every footstep that echoed from the speakers and around the theatre. At one point, the main character, a brunette of 23 or so, screamed as a building began collapsing on top of her only escape route, and Steve gasped, pulling his hand, clenched around Tony’s, up to his mouth. Steve’s hitched breaths tickled Tony’s fingers, and in response, Tony gave a light chuckle. Steve looked over, nearly biting Tony’s knuckles and apparently now aware of his actions. He dropped their hands back into his lap. Even in the darkness of the theatre, Tony noticed a slight glow of embarrassment spread across Steve’s cheeks as he turned back to the screen. Good lord, that was adorable. Tony cursed under his breath, and ran his tongue over his bottom lip.

Wait, that probably looked seductive. Was he supposed to be seductive? That wasn't supposed to look seductive. Nat said something about this… Don’t be too seductive, but drop hints? Or was it the other way around… Tony shook his head and licked his lip. Wait, did he just do it again?

“Good lord,” Tony muttered under his breath. This was not going as planned.

“What?” Steve tore his eyes from the movie.

Shit. He’d said it out loud.

Tony shook his head again. “Oh, nothing. It was nothing. Nothing,” he muttered quickly. He turned to stare at the screen, and pretended to watch, even though he regrettably had no idea what was going on. But Steve knew he hadn't been paying attention, and continued to admire him, an adoring smile plastered across his face. Tony forced himself not to glance over as his cheeks grew red and redder still. Steve chuckled, squeezed Tony’s hand affectionately, and turned towards the movie.

Tony licked his lip again. Man, his lips were dry. He probably had balm in his car… But Tony had been dropped off by Rhodes, and Steve had his motorbike. Damn it.

Wait, backtrack about 14 seconds; Did Tony just babble? Like a baby? An infant? Tony was just hitting 45, not crawling short of five years. That was _embarrassing._ He should be in control of his words, his actions. He was a grown man. And in the presence of a possibly-attainable boyfriend, hopefully, that’s pretty much a necessity, especially on a first date-- First date? Did dinner with the team count? And what about the times when it was just the two of them at the tower? Damn it. Steve was messing with his head, the charming bastard. 

Something tickled Tony’s palm. He glanced down at his fingers, which was still laced within Steve’s, and watched as Steve’s thumb glazed over the back of his hand. It was gentle, soothing. Tony couldn’t help but smile; He could use this level of affection in his life. To make up for years lost. Steve was obviously more than capable of doing the job.

When the credits rolled and people began filing out of their seats, Steve stood up, grabbed the popcorn, and turned to offer his hand. Tony reached up to take it, but stopped as Steve suppressed a chuckle. He pointed to the cupholder beyond Tony’s left arm. “No, shellhead. The water.”

Tony groaned and passed him the bottle. “That was misleading,” Tony said defensively, following Steve out of the theatre and into the dark night.

The rain had ceased, but the pavement was still damp and the air still heavy with moisture. Drops of water fell from the leaves of a nearby pear tree, and gathered in puddles that sloshed at the soles of Tony’s boots. Tony shoved his hands in his pockets and puffed out his chest, taking a deep breath in and out as his scarf blew gently in the wind.

“So,” said Steve, stepping onto the curb to stand next to Tony. He slipped something in his coat pocket and rocked on his heels. “Where to?”

Tony shrugged. “I doubt anyone’s open this late.”

Steve frowned for a moment, then cocked his head. “Panera?”

Tony smiled. “Worth a shot.”

By the time they had scampered down the crosswalk across the misty intersection, taking extra care to ‘avoid’ the puddles, the restaurant was near empty, as closing time was approaching quickly and the stars bounded across the sky through the pockets in the black clouds. Tony jogged into the lobby with Steve giggling at his heels, and the man behind the counter, who appeared to be somewhere along the emo spectrum, based on his attire and multiple piercings, introduced himself in perfect monotone.

“Welcome to Panera Bread. Do you know what you’d like to eat this evening?”

Tony nearly scoffed at his failed attempt at cheerfulness. Steve stepped up to the counter, still grinning, pulling his wallet out of his pocket. “Yes, I’ll-”

Tony hushed him with a wave of his hand. He nodded towards the wallet, and Steve reluctantly tucked it back in his coat, cocking his head with a curious smirk as Tony stepped up to the plate.

After clearing his throat, Tony spoke. “You’re closing up, right?” he challenged, glancing at the man’s nametag, which read, ‘Phillip’.

Phillip seemed hesitant. “Yes, I am.”

“And none of this food-” Tony motioned to the few cookies and pastries that still remained in the display case. “-will survive till the morning, right?”

“Correct.”

“Good.” Tony clapped his hands together. “No nuts?”

“Only almond meal in the gluten-free loaf.”

Tony grinned. “Good,” he repeated. Then, pointing at the display case, “We’ll take all of these. To-go. Omit the loaf,” he added.

“Yes, sir.”

Tony pulled out his wallet and slipped his credit card onto the counter as the boy began packing the pastries into a large to-go box. Turning to Steve, who was grinning like an idiot, Tony shrugged, taking a small bow. “I owe you for tonight, here is your payback.” Well, not all of it, of course, but Tony didn’t need to bring that up.

“We should probably get some actual food, too. I’m starving,” said Steve as Phillip picked up a pair of utensils and began dragging the pasties out of the display case.

“Fine,” Tony tittered, and, while holding continuous eye contact with Steve, called over his shoulder, “Are there any nuts in the macaroni?”

“Uh… No.”

“Great. We’ll take a small. Also to-go.”

“Okay,” Phillip’s voice cracked as he pulled a croissant into a take-out bin.

“There. Satisfied?” Tony grinned.

“Very.” Steve smiled. Then, “Did you really think there’d be nuts in macaroni and cheese?”

“Just a precaution. I don’t need you dying on our first date.”

Steve smiled, thankfully, as Phillip approached the counter with the box in his hand.

“So that’s… Three shortbread cookies, two mini croissants, and a small mac ‘n cheese.” Phillip looked up. “$21.14 is your total.”

Tony chipped his card and Phillip tapped a few buttons on the touchpad. Phillip slid the box to Tony and continued, “I’ll be right back with your macaroni.”

Phillip bustled off and Steve led Tony to a table against the window. Steve cracked a wry smile as Tony sat down. “I’ll go get the food.”

“No, you really don’t-” But Steve was already gone.

Tony watched him disappear around a corner, and waited a few seconds before pulling out his phone. It was the message from Nat he had felt the buzz for a few minutes prior, and it read, _How’s it going?_

Tony’s thumbs got to work. _Good. We’re at Panera with a giant box of leftover pastries._

His phone buzzed almost immediately. _That’s cute._ Then, _Any advances yet?_

_A few here and there. Care to share your master plan?_

Oh, God, was he really asking Nat how to flirt with Steve?

_I would say bring up his trip back to Brooklyn. That’ll get him talking about his childhood. But we need new tactics._

Tony frowned. _Do we?_

_Yes, we do. I have a plan, two steps, two conversations, and trust me, it’ll work._

_Okay, lay it on me._

_First, bring up Brooklyn. Obviously. Then after things settle, say there's someone else you're interested in and ask him for advice._

_But I'm not interested in anyone else._

_Exactly. Make it up. Make him jealous. I've done it a thousand times._

_Are you sure that will work?_ Tony looked up as Steve rounded the corner with a paper bag in his hand. _Fine, fine._ Steve turned back to say something to Phillip. _But if this screws up all my hard work, you don’t get to complain when you come pick me up._

_Sure thing, Romeo._ Tony slipped his phone into his pocket as Steve nodded and walked back towards Tony, lifting the bag to display their dinner. Tony smiled as Steve pulled out his chair and dropped the bag on the table, pulling out the dish of macaroni and a pair of plastic spoons. “He says he’s locking up, so we have about 10 minutes to eat.”

“Plenty of time,” Tony remarked as Steve handed him a spoon. “Thank you, sir.”

Steve popped the lid off of the paper cup. “You know, this is really unhealthy.”

“And I’m not complaining.” Tony dug his spoon into the pasta, lifting it slowly to display the stretching of the cheese. Steve leaned forward to wave his spoon through the string, breaking it and twisting his wrist to wind it around his spoon. Tony growled as Steve stuck it in his mouth. “That’s not fair.”

Steve shrugged, pulling the clean spoon out of his mouth and proceeding to take a dive into the tub, shoveling it into his mouth.

“Hungry, are we?” Tony snickered as Steve took another spoonful.

“Hey, I didn’t eat any popcorn at the theatre, for several, all very tragic, reasons.”

He shot Tony a look, and Tony scowled back. Steve’s face loosened into a smile, and he lifted his spoon to prod at Tony’s mouth. “Stop pretending to be mad and eat the food you bought me.”

Tony reluctantly opened his mouth and took the generous bite. Damn, that was fantastic. Tony lifted his head to nod approvingly, but instead looked up to see an adorable, grinning Steve wiggling his adorably-blonde eyebrows.

Damn, that was also fantastic.

Tony swallowed the mouthful to avoid further embarrassing himself. Steve nodded encouragingly. “Good, right?”

Tony shrugged in defeat. “You got me.” He stuck his own spoon in the pasta. “It’s pretty good.”

Smiling like an idiot, Steve scooped another cheesy spoonful.

Tony waved his spoon in the air as he chewed another bite. “So,” he began, taking Nat’s advice. “You took a trip back to Brooklyn?”

Steve’s face lit up and he sat up in his seat. He crossed his hands on the table eagerly and inhaled with a wide smile. “I did, I did.”

“How’d it go?” Tony couldn’t help but grin at Steve’s bottled excitement as he sat forward and twiddled his thumbs.

“It was _amazing.”_ Steve was practically shaking in his seat. “I rode the subway like I used to get to work every morning. They replaced the cars, which is a bummer, but it was so much more smooth than I remember. And I saw my old apartment building and stopped at this little pizza shop Buck and I used to go to every Saturday night, and-” Steve paused to point his spoon at Tony, waving it in a small circle. “Have you been to the pizza joint on 6th and Pacific?”

Tony shook his head, grinning. “I don’t think I have.”

Steve’s eyes widened. _“You. Need to._ It is by far the best pizza place I have ever been to in my entire life. The crust isn’t too crunchy and is the perfect thickness, and the sauce is fantastic, and they buy meat from butchers in the New York countryside and they tie the sausages in-house, and the vegetables are surprisingly fresh.”

Tony scraped his spoon around the inside of the tub. “Seems like I’m missing out.”

“You are.” Steve smiled, but then his face suddenly dropped. He pressed a hand to his forehead. “Wait, no, sorry, I didn't mean-”

Tony waved his hands as Steve tried to elaborate. “No, no, it's fine-”

“-it sounded like I was-”

“No, really, Steve. It's-- Steve!” Tony grabbed Steve’s flailing hands with both of his own, effectively shutting Steve up. Tony lowered their hands gently to the table. “It's fine,” he said softly.

“Okay.” Steve still seemed worried. Then, “Are you sure?”

Tony groaned, doing his best not to laugh, but ultimately, failing. “Christ, Steve, are you always this persistent?”

“Only when I'm nervous,” Steve blurted, chuckling for a moment before realizing what he had said. His eyes grew wide and he looked away, his cheeks reddening deeper than Tony had ever seen them.

A small _mhm_ was all Tony could manage. He could've replied with _“you think you're the nervous one?”_ or even _“what's there to be nervous about?”_ But no, he _had_ to be just as surprised as Steve was. Well, honestly, who wouldn't be surprised? Big, strong-hearted, seemingly-invincible Steve Rogers was _nervous_ around him? Around the petty, cocky, egotistic shrimp of a man, Tony Stark? Was that even possible? 

Where was this promised confidence? Wasn’t he supposed to be smug? Tony tried to apply to the stereotypes, but all he felt was the butterflies in his stomach that he thought he'd pushed down. His nervousness was apparently mutual… Who knew, right?

Steve looked up just as Tony glanced over to check on him, and they made long, extremely awkward eye contact for a solid 5 seconds. Tony cleared his throat and did his best to hide his smile as he popped open the to-go box of pastries. He turned the box towards Steve. “Care to take first pick?”

Steve could manage to hide his amusement either, and took one of the two mini croissants. “Thank you.”

Tony grabbed the second croissant and tore it in half. “So, how’d you like the-” Tony looked up to see Steve shoving the whole thing in his mouth. “Christ, slow down!” Tony was sure he was supposed to be disgusted, but oddly, he was even more in love. Only Steve could make that attractive. Figures.

Steve swallowed the croissant, dry. Tony brought his shoulders into an exaggerated shiver. “Ew, gross, Steve, that’s appalling. Ew, no, ew.”

Swallowing hard, again, Steve knocked on his chest. “Oh, goodness, that hurt.”

Tony just looked at him. “You think?” Tony pushed himself to his feet, tossing stump what remained of his croissant into the box. “I’m going to get you a glass of water, and you’re going to stay here and try not to choke on anything.”

“You’re taking everything I’d choke on with you,” Steve mumbled under his breath. 

Tony couldn't believe his ears. “What?” he zapped around.

“Oh, nothing. Nothing,” Steve said, quietly, looking down to his lap.

Tony narrowed his eyes. “Sure.”

As he walked towards the soda machine, he ran through what he thought Steve had just said. Did he hear him correctly? _You’re taking everything I’d choke on with you._ Seriously? Did he…? Did he just… Imply… That... Did Steve…? No, no, he wouldn’t, he couldn’t have said that. Not Steve. Tony could’ve, maybe, and possibly Clint, but not Steve. He’s too straightforward, too pure, too--

Tony turned around the moment he felt someone watching him. “Were you staring at my ass?”

Steve sat, stiff as a board, his hands crossed in his lap. He hesitated, avoided eye contact, then blurted, “No.”

“Uh huh.” Tony bobbed his head. Apparently Steve wasn't as pure as he seemed to be.

Tony grabbed a cup from the stacks and began filling it with water. He put his free arm on his hip and angled himself perpendicular to the machine do that he could see Steve out of the corner of his eye. Mostly he sat quietly, munching on one of the cookies and twiddling his thumbs, but every once in awhile, he glanced up at Tony, who he thought wasn't paying attention. When the cup was almost full, Tony grinned, forced a scoff, and dumped it out into the tray.

He glanced over his shoulder to see Steve peering at him in confusion. “There was tea in it from the same nozzle,” he called. Not necessarily a lie, he didn't taste the water to know if there was any tea in it, but since they shared nozzles, Tony used it to his advantage, turning to face the machine; he dumped out the second cup, claiming he forgot the ice; he ‘accidentally’ pushed the wrong button; and on his third refill, Phillip called from over the counter.

“Hey, can you, uh, not waste the soda?”

Tony bit his lip in embarrassment. “Sorry,” he mumbled as Philip nodded and turned back to the kitchen. He glanced over his shoulder to make a face at Steve, who replied with a giggle through a mouthful of cookie. Tony pressed the water button and filled the cup nearly to the brim, turning to walk back towards the table.

“Enjoying the view?” Tony called as he approached his seat and handed Steve the cup of water.

“Hardly,” Steve teased as Tony sat back down. “But I can't pass up free dinner and a show.”

Tony shrugged and leaned forward to take one of the two remaining cookies in the tub.

Steve grabbed the other and nudged the carton to the edge of the table with his elbow. “You had something to ask me earlier?”

“Hm?” Tony mumbled through the cookie.

“A question,” Steve repeated, amused. “Before I… Choked.”

“Oh, yeah.” Tony swallowed. “How'd you like the movie?”

Steve shrugged, waving his cookie in a small circle. “Well, as actors go, the secondary character wasn't classically trained and actually a little dull, and his character was unneeded, which was weird because his brother…”

Tony stopped listening the moment Steve dove into detail, polishing off the cookie and balancing his chin in his palms, propping himself up on his elbows. His face relaxed into a dopey smile as he admired Steve, who undoubtedly knew that he was watching, and as Steve elaborated with a few waves of his hands, Tony's gaze trailed from the blue of his eyes to the pink of his lips, the clicking and rolling somehow memorizing. But then, out of the blue, his speaking stopped.

“Tony?”

Tony immediately sat up as his elbows slipped out from between him. “Yes?” This definitely wasn't the first time Steve had said his name.

“I said, what did you think of the movie?”

“Oh. The movie.” Damn it. Here we go. Improv time. “It was… Good. I mean, the plot wasn't as complicated as some others that I've seen, and the main character… Uh, what's her name?”

“Shannon?” Steve grinned.

“Yes, Shannon, yeah, her character wasn't developed enough by the climax, and-”

“Tony?” said Steve, and Tony looked up. “If you weren't paying attention, you don't need to answer the question-”

“No, no, I was paying attention,” Tony insisted.

“Tony,” Steve repeated. “It's okay. I don't mind.”

Having no remark in mind, Tony just smiled in thanks.

“And besides, I wasn't really paying attention either. Everything I said earlier was complete nonsense.” Steve shrugged. “And I don't think her name was Shannon.”

Tony shook his head with a chuckle. “Yeah, that name doesn't really sound familiar.” _Thanks for embarrassing me there, Rogers._ He snatched what remained of Steve’s water and sipped the last of it, letting out a loud breath when he placed the cup back on the table.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Nice.” A buzz came from somewhere on Steve’s coat, and he glanced down, pulling something out of his pocket. “Sorry, sorry, it’s Buck.” Steve tapped the screen a couple times, then snickered. “He locked himself out of his apartment again, the idiot. The locksmith won’t be able to stop by until Monday. Can he stay at our place for a few days?”

Tony’s heart sank. He forced a smile and said as cheerfully as he could manage, “Sure.”

“Okay.” Steve seemed hesitant, but turned back to his phone, which chimed when he tapped send.

_Now’s your chance, now’s your chance,_ Nat’s voice rang in his ears. 

Tony tapped the butt of his spoon, which had found its way back into his hand, on the table. “So, I need some dating advice.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve smirked. Oh, such innocence. He had no idea what was coming. Tony instantly regretted asking; but was too late to turn back now.

“Yeah. There’s this… Girl, uh, Cecilia, yeah, Cecilia, that's her name, and I see her every Sunday morning when I stop by this little coffee shop on the corner. She’s really sweet, but we don’t really talk a lot. I was wondering if you think I should make a move or not.”

Steve sat up slowly, crossing his arms over his pecs in attempt to hide his disappointment. “Uhm…” His eyes trailed to the ceiling, and he frowned in contrived thought. Tony’s heart sank as Steve opened his mouth. “I’d say… Go for it, I guess. She sounds pretty nice.”

“Okay. I’ll ask her next time I see her.” Tony smiled wryly, and Steve looked to his hands in his lap.

Steve stood up. “Mind if I use the bathroom real quick before we go?” he croaked, avoiding eye contact.

“No, no, go for it.” Tony desperately searched for Steve’s gaze as he turned away. Steve grabbed his phone and gripped it tightly, almost angrily, in his fist. He passed Phillip, who was sweeping the floor, practically shoving him out of the way as he slipped into the bathroom. Phillip looked over with a concerned look, and Tony shot him a scowl. Phillip’s eyes widened and scurried away as Tony buried his face in his hands.

After a moment, Tony pulled out his phone and punched a button, lifting it to his ear. A dial or two passed by as Tony bit his lip anxiously. And finally, after what seemed like years, the other end clicked as someone answered the phone.

Tony didn’t even wait to hear a greeting. “It didn’t work, it totally didn’t work, fuck, Nat, holy _fuck,_ he’s in the bathroom calling his boyfriend and I’m out here, alone with his half-eaten cookie and, holy shit, I killed it, I ruined it, he hates me, holy-”

“Woah, woah! Slow down! Jesus Christ!” Nat hollered. Then she sighed, and continued gently, “Start at the beginning.”

“Okay, okay.” Tony ran a hand through his hair. “So when I texted you he was getting our dinner from the clerk, and then he sat down and we started talking, first about Brooklyn and then about the movie and I finally brought up the made-up girl once Buck texted him and asked if he could stay in the tower over the weekend, and then Steve got up and took his phone to the bathroom and I'm pretty sure he's calling his boyfriend, and then I called you and…” Tony sucked in a breath. “Yeah.”

“Wait, his boyfriend?” Nat sounded confused. “You mean Bucky? Is Bucky… What?”

“I don't know, that's why I'm calling you.”

“I don't think… Hold on.” The phone clacked was it was placed on a table. Then he heard Nat screech, “CLINT! Can you come down here for a second?”

“What for?” Clint hollered back.

“Just get your ass down here.” Then Nat’s voice came clearly through the phone. “Clint’s on his way down.”

Tony bit his lip, shifting nervously in his seat. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” he muttered under his breath. At last, Clint spoke.

“What's wrong?”

“Bucky isn't with Steve, is he?”

“Like, ‘with’ or like _with?”_

“Clint, I'm serious.”

Clint snorted, and a shuffling indicate he was crossing his arms. Nat groaned in response.

“Christ. Is Steve with Bucky, as in, are they dating?”

“What?” Clint scoffed. “Steve and… Bucky?” Clint suddenly seemed worried. “Holy shit, are Steve and Bucky…?”

“I don't know, that's why I'm asking you!”

“Nat,” Tony managed to choke out. “Put me on speaker.”

The phone beeped and clacked again as it landed on the table.

“Who's that?” Clint asked.

“Tony. He's on a date with Steve, I think, and Steve just took his phone to the bathroom. We think he's calling Buck.”

“Holy shit,” Clint repeated. “Are you sure?”

“We don't know.” Nat sighed.

“Tony,” said Clint in a softer tone. “Did you try calling Steve’s cell to see if it’s busy?”

“No,” Tony mumbled.

“Okay, I'm going to do that now. Nat is going to call Buck’s cell with the tower home number.” Clint’s calming voice was reassuring. “Okay?”

“Okay.” Tony pulled his knees to his chest with his free arm. “Thank you.”

After a moment, Clint’s voice grew clearer as he walked up to the phone. “Steve’s cell isn't busy, but it went straight to voicemail. He must have turned it off.”

“Okay. Where's Nat?”

There was a pause. “Still on the phone. Wait-- No, she just hung up, here she comes.”

“Nat?” Tony croaked out.

“Yeah, Tony, I'm here. Don't worry.” She let out a heavy sigh. “Bucky picked up. He, uh… He’s definitely staying at the tower, but he did sound surprised when I called. So he's definitely been talking to someone.”

“Is Steve coming out of the bathroom?” Clint called from across the room. 

Tony looked up. As if on que, the door swung open. “Fuck, yes he is.”

“Okay, okay. So he could have been talking to Bucky. But that's okay. He's not dating him. Probably.” Nat was less sure than she had been earlier.

“Thanks,” he grumbled sarcastically. Tony glanced up again. “Steve’s walking over.”

“Oh, God, okay. Good luck.”

“You can do this,” Clint added, and Tony hung up.

Steve approached the table, his face expressionless and his shoulders tense. His cheeks seemed slightly damp, as if he had been crying. Or maybe he washed his face, but that didn’t seem likely. Steve slipped his phone in his pocket. He didn't sit down. “Are you ready to go?” He cracked a wry smile.

Tony forced himself to smile back. “Sure.” He gathered the trash into the empty to-go box and folded it shut, standing up and pushing in his chair.

Steve called over his shoulder. “Phillip! We're heading out!”

“Okay! Th-Thank you!” Phillip replied from the back of the kitchen.

Tony followed Steve towards the front of the restaurant, pausing only to toss the carton in the garbage can. Steve pushed the door and held it open with one arm for Tony to walk through. God, even when Steve was the least happy to have Tony in his company, he still had good manners. He still managed to put himself last. The bastard.

Ducking under Steve’s arm, Tony stepped out of the restaurant and out into the crisp night. The awning above his head drooped, popping here and there as flecks of rain fell from the sky. Steve stepped up to the street and motioned to his motorcycle, which was parked halfway across the parking lot.

“Rhodes dropped you off, didn't he?”

“Yeah.” Tony stopped under the awning, and shoved his hands deep in his pockets.

“So you need a ride home, then, right?”

“I don't have a ride, but I can catch a cab or something,” Tony choked out.

“Are you sure?”

A raindrop flicked into Tony’s eye as he turned his head to look over the lot. Steve stood on the edge of the curb, his hair still slightly damp and curling up at the edges, his arms at his sides, and a warm smile on his face. _Say yes, say yes,_ Tony begged, but his lips curved otherwise.

“Uhm… No thanks. I can call Nat if I can't find a cab.”

“Positive?” Steve’s shoulders sagged, his brows shifting deeper into a look of disappointment.

Tony sighed, and pushed onwards. “Yeah. I’ll be fine. Thanks for the offer.”

“Alright. Goodnight.” He turned and started across the parking lot, the rain starting to pick up and undoubtedly soaking the leather seat of his motorcycle.

Tony watched him go, his heart sinking past his knees and diving into the sewer. Yes, he wanted to call out. _Yes, I want you to take me home._ He was so close, so close to everything he had wanted his life to be. Steve was what Tony had been looking for, and he knew for sure; Steve’s smile, his alluring voice and strong build made Tony’s insides churn. The solution to his years upon years of despair was standing 10 feet in front of him, yet his legs were stiff and the soles of his feet were glued to the ground.

Then, out of the blue and about halfway to his bike, Steve stopped walking, and turned around. His thigh-length rain coat was dripping from the tips with the water now pouring from the sky, and his once-adorably fluffy blonde hair was stuck flat to his head. “Did I… Did I do something wrong?”

_No, you didn’t,_ Tony tried to utter, but nothing came out. Instead, he stood, frozen on the sidewalk.

“I mean,” Steve sighed. “I thought you liked me. I thought I was getting all the right signals from you, and I thought I was sending all the right ones too. And then it seemed to go South when I mentioned Buck, and then you mentioned that girl and…” Steve looked down at his feet, water running down the bridge of his nose.

“Steve, I-” _No, no no no. Please._

Steve seemed to ignore him. “I thought you liked me,” he repeated. “I've never really gotten this far in a potential-relationship before, and… I really like you, okay, and I just can't-”

Steve was abruptly silenced by Tony’s hand grabbing hold of his cheeks and dragging him into his lips. Steve’s hands hovered around Tony’s ears for a moment before they bracketed at his waist, his solid hands drawing him in closer. Steve ducked his neck to meet Tony’s height, and Tony muttered, “Shut the fuck up, Rogers, or I swear to God I am going to murder everyone you know and love and feed their organs to the hounds.”

Steve chuckled into Tony’s mouth. “Woah-hoh, language.”

Tony deepened the kiss, nibbling on Steve’s lip, and Steve followed almost immediately, his grip on Tony’s hips tightening and his eyes closing in sync with Tony’s. After a long moment, Steve pulled away and buried his face in Tony’s shoulder. His hands lifted from Tony’s waist and wrapped around his back, crossing over Tony’s shoulders, and enclosing him in a tight, affectionate hug. Tony sighed and lowered his hands from Steve’s cheeks to hug him back, tucking his neck against Steve’s chest. Steve’s heart thumped rapidly in his ear, but as seconds passed, it began to slow to a regular pace. Tony smiled and gripped Steve’s soaked rain jacket in his fists, though it persistently tried to slip free.

After a few seconds, Tony spoke. “You know, I’m really enjoying this and all, but if you haven’t noticed, we’re standing in the pouring rain.”

Steve laughed, his nose stuffed from what sounded like tears of joy, and as Tony turned to lead Steve back under the awning, Steve bent down and hooked his arms under Tony’s knees, scooping him up off the puddled ground. Steve cradled Tony against his chest, rocking him ever so slightly, and hopped up on the curb striped with faded paint. Tony smiled and lay his head against Steve’s pecs. They walked along the side of the Panera Bread, and as they sat down on a bench shoved up against the wall, Steve lowered Tony into his lap.

“Better?” Steve sniffled again, leaning back to rest against the wall.

“Yes, thank you,” Tony smiled as he turned 90 degrees so that his knees lay atop Steve’s and his back was pressed to Steve’s chest. Tony craned his neck to glance up at Steve. He noticed a fleck of water in his eyes, as another drop slipped down his cheek. He reached up to wipe it away. “Are you crying?”

Steve nudged his hand away, chuckling, and rubbed his face with his free hand. His other arm was wrapped around Tony’s upper arm and trailed into Tony’s lap, his hand resting within Tony’s palms. “No no, it’s the rain,” he lied with a grin. His hand dropped into Tony’s lap to meet their conjoined hands, which was gathered up by Tony’s warm hands and cradled gently. Steve looked down to plant a kiss on Tony’s forehead. He spoke with a simper. “I hope.”

Tony smiled and tipped his head back as Steve lay his chin on the crown of his head, loosening his muscles and closing his eyes. He felt Steve’s shoulders relax with his. Tony ran his thumb over the back of Steve’s hand, and Steve squeezed his hand in return. Truly, truly paradise. He let his muscles relax and he melted into Steve’s shoulders, his head tilting slightly to the left, his features sinking and absorbing into Steve’s radiating warmth. His elbows slipped into the dips on the top of Steve’s as if they were pieces of a puzzle. Steve’s buttoned raincoat that stuck to Tony’s back was soaked, and undoubtedly, so was the rest of him, and the frigid cold seeped unsettlingly through the thin layer of his own coat, but it was paradise nonetheless.

Then, breaking the silence, “You guys are really cute.”

Tony opened his eyes as Steve’s frame rose around him. Glancing to his right to spot the boy from which the voice had been spoken, his eyes met none other than the emo clerk behind the counter.

Phillip stood awkwardly on the edge of the sidewalk, barely under the canopy, wearing a black raincoat and a dark blue backpack. His black hair was damp and stood out against his pale skin as he tried to elaborate.

“I mean… Well, yeah. I just... Wanted you guys to… To know that.”

Tony smiled widely, and Steve cocked his head, a grin obviously plastered across his face. “Thank you.”

Phillip gave a hesitant nod and clapped his hands together, glancing at the ground and rolling back on his heels. “Okay,” he said to himself, and turned to step off of the curb and into the pouring rain.

“He’s nice,” Tony remarked once Phillip had slammed the door of his car, cuddling Steve’s arm that he wore across his chest like a seatbelt.

“Yeah. A little odd, but in a good way.”

Tony grazed the back of Steve’s hand with his thumb. After a slight pause, he murmured, “I’m sorry for bringing up a girl in the restaurant. That was… Weird. Just something Nat made up as a master plan to somehow get you to like me.”

“Sounds like something Nat would do. I guess it worked, to some extent, though it was a little unnecessary.”

“Yeah.” Tony shifted slightly in Steve’s lap. “Is this uncomfortable?”

Steve didn’t speak for a moment. “No.”

“You hesitated.”

“No, I didn’t,” Steve replied quickly.

But Tony was already on the move. “Here, let me… Rogers, help me out here, lean-”

“Alright, alright.”

“-forwards, okay.” Tony had swiveled around on his backside so that he was now facing Steve. He went to lift his leg to bring it to Steve’s opposite hip when his knee smashed sharply into Steve’s chin.

Tony gasped. “Oh, my God, I am so sorry.” He dropped his leg onto the bench and reached up to rub Steve’s jaw delicately with two fingers. “Are you okay?”

“Fine, fine.” Steve rolled his jaw, and grinned. “Not the first time I’ve been clocked.”

Tony rolled his eyes and unbuttoned his raincoat, slipping it off his shoulders and tossing it gently onto the bench beside them. He took a scoot closer and shoved the folds of Steve’s raincoat aside, and began unzipping his hoodie.

 

“What are you-”

“Shh.” Tony stuck out his tongue as he fought with the stubborn zipper.

“Tony, are you sure this is a good… Time?” Steve’s cheeks grew red again. “Are we doing this now? What…”

“Shh,” Tony commanded again, pulling on the zipper, and when it popped open, he shifted closer to Steve to the point where he was pressed against Steve’s chest. He wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist. “Zip,” he commanded.

Steve shook his head, seeming to release a breath of relief, and began zipping Tony inside his hoodie. “You’re extremely spoiled, you know that, right?”

Tony mumbled inaudibly into Steve’s chest as Steve buttoned his raincoat over Tony’s back and stuck his hands in his coat pockets.

“You know, this is really stretching out my raincoat.”

“I'll just buy you a new one,” Tony murmured in an instant. “And it'll be the best damn raincoat you'll ever own. Guaranteed.”

“Even better than this one?” Steve questioned.

Tony hesitated. “Uhm… If you want it to be. Or not, it's up to you.” 

Steve chuckled. Then, he lifted his hands to run his fingers through Tony’s hair. “Man, you really are soaked.”

“Well, if you haven't noticed, it's literally dumping outside, and we were momentarily, tragically, standing in it.”

“A little longer than momentarily, actually.”

“Well,” Tony planted a kiss on Steve’s collarbone. “That's not my fault, was it?”

“Well, it kinda was. You were the one who ran out into the rain and jumped on me.”

“I didn’t _jump_ on you, that's a horrific-”

“Yes you did, you totally jumped-”

“-overexaggerated of my actions.”

“-all over me, yes, yes you did, and granted I'm thankful for it, but, really, what were you thinking?”

“What was I thinking?” Tony grinned as Steve’s smile turned into a laugh, and as he played with Tony’s hair. “You were the one who walked out into the rain and left me, alone, nearly crying, on the curb. For no reason.”

“I had a reason. I genuinely thought-”

“You _genuinely thought.”_

“I _genuinely thought_ you weren't interested in me. And I have tons of evidence to back it up.”

Tony rolled his eyes, uncharacteristically not challenging his statement. “Alright, Romeo, if you say so.”

They sat in silence as the rain pounded on and the moon refused to peek through the clouds. Then, “Wait, you were crying?”

“It’s a figure of speech.”

“No, it’s really not.”

“It’s a metaphor, a, uh, monologue.” Tony was running out of terms, and Steve was shaking too hard with laughter to breath a reply. “Analogy. Simile. Personification!”

“You obviously know nothing about the English language.”

“And you do, Brooklyn-boy?” Steve shot him a look. “Okay, sorry that was too far.”

“A little, yeah.” Steve stroked Tony’s hair. Then, under his breath, “I’m surprised a Manhattanite knows what a personification is-”

Tony let go of his other hand momentarily to reach up and jab Steve in the ribs. “Asshole! You asshole,” he teased, then sank back into Steve’s chest as Steve took a few breaths to settle his laughter.

Steve looked up at the dark sky, which was still riddled with haze. “Looks like more rain.”

Tony groaned. “Christ. As if the town isn’t flooded already. What time is it?”

Steve lifted his arm from Tony’s crown to glance at his watch. “12:14.”

“J.A.R.V.I.S.? What time will it stop raining?”

A buzz came from Tony’s coat that lay sprawled out on the bench. _“My sensors read about 2:10 AM.”_

“And all we have is a motorcycle…” Tony grumbled under his breath. He then tilted his head upwards to meet Steve’s azure gaze. “Think you can wait that long?”

Steve bent down to lay a tender kiss on Tony’s lips. He smiled and squeezed Tony’s hand affectionately. “I’d be happy to.”


End file.
